


Peter & Mikey

by Nyxie



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxie/pseuds/Nyxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't need a fountain of youth, a potion, a supernatural being's venom. Sometimes in order to live forever, you've just got to believe that you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Puzzle Piece That Doesn't Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the tale of Peter Pan.

Mikey Way had never contemplated the idea of immortality.

It wasn't that the idea annoyed him, or that he was scared of it. It just didn't seem important to him. The way life worked was this; you lived, and then you died. Simple. Immortality, living forever, just didn't fit in with the equation. It didn't work, and that was why it wasn't possible. He knew this, and that's why he didn't think about it.

Sure, if it ever did pass his mind, he couldn't deny that it interested him. Living forever...watching history play out in front of your eyes, never having to worry about dying. Never having to worry about regrets because you had all the time in the world. In fact, you would practically have the world at your fingertips - you could probably even rule it if you wanted to. It would be, frankly, amazing...

But of course, that was impossible. Because immortality didnt fit in with the forever repeating tragedy that was life.

He supposed, in that way, they were alike.

 

Unlike Mikey Way, Pete Wentz thought about immortality a lot.

More than a lot, actually. He didn't just think about it - he was consumed by it. It was constantly on his mind, creeping it's way into the conversations he had with the few friends he still had left. It fascinated him, the idea of living forever. Of never, ever, _ever_ dying. Ever.

In the back of his mind, Pete knew his obsession with living forever was rather sad. No, it was _really_ sad. Because he knew the only reason he was so obsessed with it was because he hated his own life - hated how he couldn't make friends because all he did all day was write 'girly' poems and stories, how everyone treated him as the town weirdo. He supposed he was, in a way - he knew he disappointed his parents at least, with the way he still hadn't done anything with his life except practically become a hermit with a laptop.

That was why he wanted to live forever. Because he wouldn't have to worry about dying without doing what he wanted to do - make a difference. He wanted to be heard. And if he never had to die, if he could just stick around forever, he would be able to do that without the pressure of time ticking away. Everything would just be easier.

Life would be easier.

 

It was autumn in Chicago when Pete's parents finally kicked him out.

He had sort of seen it coming - had felt a change in the feel of the house over the last few days. It was his mom who finally worked up the guts to come downstairs and tell him. He supposed they had finally got sick of him living in their basement, and to be honest he couldn't blame them. He got sick of himself a lot, too.

"Pete, you need to get out," She had said, after entering the room and just standing behind him, watching him type away on his laptop for a few moments.

"Yeah, yeah, Mom. I'll go out and get the groceries this afternoon."

"No, Pete, I mean get out of the house," She took a step toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Pete kept his eyes on the screen, but he had stopped typing. "For good."

"For good? You mean..."

"Yes, Pete. It's time for you to move out." She gave his shoulder a warm squeeze, in that way only moms can, then left the room. 

And that was that.

Pete knew there was no point in arguing with his parents - he had put them through enough to owe them for a lifetime. The least he could do was move out, as they had asked. But finding a place to live in Chicago was hard, especially when you were a jobless man with more fingers than friends. But he did have a few friends left, a certain Patrick Stump being one of them. And Patrick, being the quirky-but-lovable man he was, did have a job and an apartment that he was willing to share with Pete. For a while, at least.

He was also willing to share his totally awesome and famous-with-their-friends coffee - and advice.

"So your parents finally kicked you out," Patrick said, his voice carrying from the kitchen to where Pete was sitting on the couch, legs crossed and eyes fixed on the wall.

"Yeah."

"Took them long enough."

He made a 'hmph' noise. "Thanks for making me feel better."

Patrick emerged from the kitchen holding two mugs of coffee. He placed one in front of Pete, then sat in the chair across from him with the other, just below the point his gaze was fixed on. "Well how long did you expect it to last? They can't keep providing for you. You don't even have a job, Pete."

"I was going to get one."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. This is probably the longest you've gone without using your laptop in three years." He placed his mug down on the table, sighing lightly. "Dude, the characters in your stories lead more exciting lives than you."

"Well I wouldn't write about them if they were _less_ exciting," Pete pointed out, meeting Patrick's gaze, but sighed anyway. "I know you're right, though. I want to get out of the house more. I just - I don't know."

"Chicago?" Patrick guessed, a smile playing on his lips. He knew how much his friend couldn't stand being stuck in the town he had spent most of his life in.

"Yeah," He sighed, picking up his mug and drinking from it. They sat in silence for a few moments, Patrick's eyes gazing out the window while Pete's returned to the wall.

"Maybe you should just get out," Patrick said at last, eyes returning to Pete's face.

"What?"

"Get out. You know, leave Chicago. Go somewhere else, for a holiday or something."

"Patrick, I couldn't even afford an apartment in Chicago. You think I could afford a _holiday?_ "

"I'll pay for it," He said, taking Pete by surprise. Seeing his expression, Patrick added, "Seriously, dude. You look like you need to get out of here."

"Yeah, but I couldn't make you pay for all that."

"No, you couldn't, so it's a good thing I'm offering to," He replied, then said jokingly, "Besides, it'd save me the pain of putting up with you. You don't seem like the easiest person to live with, Peter Wentz."

Pete sat there for a few moments, thinking it over. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Okay. Sure," He agreed, flashing a smile that was quickly returned by his friend. "One more thing, though."

"What?"

"Where am I going to go?"


	2. The Guy With The Magazines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But you're still going to...you know, die. Your head can't turn you into a vampire or something."
> 
> "Sometimes all you need is your head and a little belief, Mikey."

New Jersey sucked.

That was all Mikey could think of as he stared out the window of the book-slash-magazine store he was working at. He knew that really, shouldn't be daydreaming - after all, he was working - but the place was empty, and he wasn't worried about anyone walking in anytime soon. No one ever came into this place, the only exception being the days when new editions of magazines came out. On those days it was crawling with teenage girls itching to get their weekly dose of _"OMG! Hot new celebrity gossip!"_ and _"Find out what color lipstick really suits you!"_

Sighing, Mikey placed his head on the counter he was sat behind, eyes lazily watching the people wander by outside. He could see, even from where he was, how already they were wearing multiple layers of clothing to protect themselves from the icy cold that had crept into the wind over the past few weeks. He couldn't deny that he was happy to be inside, away from the chill, but he would still rather be someplace else, a place that was preferably warm. Like a coffee shop, maybe; just a place where there were actually things to do and people to talk to.

But he was fooling himself if he thought trying to befriend other people would change anything. He had known most of the people in this town since kindergarten - some of those older than him could even remember when he was _born._ They were all small-town kids, no doubt about that - the way gossip spread like wildfire was enough proof - but no one seemed to want to change that, except him (and maybe his brother, Gerard, too). He hated being stuck here, hated it more than anything else - and Mikey had been given enough reason to hate a lot of things in his life. But it was being trapped here, with no way out visible, that he hated more than anything. New Jersey was like a cage, and right now it felt like someone had locked him inside and thrown away the key.

"Uhm, excuse me?" A voice interrupted his thoughts, and Mikey looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone come in - he supposed he had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts - but sure enough, standing there was a dark haired man, around his own age by the looks of it. He was staring down at him curiously, but as Mikey looked up at him a warm smile spread across his face. Mikey felt the corners of his own mouth quirk upward.

"Oh, uh, sorry," He apologized, straightening up, but the man kept smiling.

"It's no problem," He replied brightly, placing a couple of magazines down on the counter. Glancing down at them, Mikey noticed that they weren't the usual magazines people bought here - certainly not the most popular. He did remember hearing, though, that they were popular in other places; Chicago, maybe, or possibly New York. Either way, it made him think that this man wasn't from around here - that, and the fact that his accent sounded slightly different.

He tapped the prices into the cash register and, turning his gaze back to the man, found that he had already placed the correct amount of money on the counter. 

"Hm. You're fast," Mikey commented, grabbing the money and placing it in the cash register.

"You get good at counting money when you're completely broke," He answered, a joking tone to his voice. 

Mikey chuckled slightly. "Well you know what they say; all the rich start out poor."

"Who says that?"

"I don't know. But it's better than 'life sucks, then you die'." At that the man laughed, loud and clear in the quiet shop. It didn't bother Mikey, though; it was nice to actually have someone besides him in here for once.

"You're funny," He said, flashing him that smile again as he grabbed his magazines, clutching them to his chest. "Thank you. Bye," He raised a hand in a small wave, eyes sparkling slightly as he turned to leave.

"Bye," Mikey replied, returning his grin with a small smile himself. Which was something, for him - everyone who knew Mikey Way could tell you that smiling wasn't really his thing.

He glanced back at him, still grinning, then the nameless man left the shop, a gust of cold wind shooting in through the open door as he did so. He almost had to laugh at him - he acted like such a typical visitor, yet he wasn't. No resident of this Jersey town would talk so easily with a stranger - another small town kid habit - yet he didn't stumble around, map in hand, like a lost child, either. He was definitely a tourist, that was for sure, and that was possibly the funniest part. Because Mikey couldn't possibly think, for the life of him, why someone would want to come to a washed up, nobody town like this one.

But maybe he was just a little bitter.

 

Mikey didn't think he would see the nameless man with the magazines again. That wasn't what happened around here - you ran into a visitor once, maybe talk with them a little, but you didn't see them again unless you actually made an effort to follow it up. But, of course, he wasn't a normal visitor, or at least he didn't seem to be.

It was the day after he had met him, and Mikey was finally sitting in that coffee shop he had been dreaming about, although he wasn't talking to anyone. Instead, he was busy typing away about a topic that had never interested him to begin with. It was for a college application, or something like that. His parents had been nagging him to apply for a while, to start doing something with his life; he was fairly certain his mom wanted him to get into Law, but if he had to be truthful, something along the lines of Music looked interesting. Gerard had always talked about starting a band - but then he had gone off to Art School, and never really followed up on it.

"Could I sit here?" Mikey didn't even look up to answer; he just nodded, and kept typing as he heard whoever it was settle in the seat across from him. It took about two minutes without the sound of another laptop to drag Mikey out of the dreary, automated state of writing an essay, and he glanced curiously over at the other person. He seemed to be sitting in a cross-legged position, head bowed, eyes focused on the book he held in front of himself. Looking at the book, he just managed to catch a glance of the cover: _'Peter Pan.'_

"Peter Pan?" Mike said aloud, without thinking, and almost immediately regretted it. The person across from him didn't seem bothered, though; he just shrugged his shoulders, not even looking up from his book, a lot like how Mikey had acted before.

"Yeah. It's one of my favorite books."

He couldn't help raising an eyebrow slightly. "But isn't that like, for kids?"

"So? I may not be a kid any more, but that doesn't mean I can't act like one." He looked up finally, darks eyes meeting Mikey's. "Besides, being a kid is a lot more fun than being an adult."

"You act like you're going to be forever young."

"I am. Or, at least, I hope to be," He placed his book down properly, brushing back a few strands of fringe from his face. That was when Mikey recognized him, and he supposed he must've recognized him too, because suddenly his face lit up a little more. "Hey, you're the guy from the magazine store!"

One corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a smirk. "And you're the guy with the magazines," Mikey replied, straightening up a little. 

The dark haired man across from him laughed, the same laugh that had filled the shop the day before. "Yeah, I guess I am," He paused for a moment, then stuck out a hand, "Although my name's actually Pete. Pete Wentz."

Mikey reached out his own hand, shaking Pete's surprisingly warm one. "Mikey Way."

"Nice to meet you, Mikey. Although technically I'm meeting you again."

"Yeah," He said, and after a moment's pause, pushed his laptop screen down. "Interesting name."

"I guess. Z's are cool."

"Z for Zebra."

"Do I look like a zebra to you?"

"No," Mikey said, pretending to look him over, "But maybe a little zany."

Pete raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. "Are you calling me weird?"

"Nope. Just...different."

He chuckled. There was a moment of quiet between them, in which Pete glanced down at his book, eyes running across the page for a second, before he folded the corner over and shut it.

"So, do you really believe in that whole 'living forever' thing?" Mikey asked, and Pete nodded.

"Yeah. Of course I do."

"But...you know it's not true, right? I mean, everyone has to grow up. We can't stay children forever."

"No. We don't _have_ to grow up." He looked at Mikey pointedly, and for a moment he almost regretted saying anything. "Maybe physically, but we can always stay young in our minds."

"But you're still going to....you know, die. Your head can't turn you into a vampire or something."

"Sometimes all you need is your head and a little belief, Mikey," He said, hands beginning to play with his book. Mikey watched him for a few seconds, watching his fingers rifle through the pages, thinking about what he had said.

"Have you seen the movie?"

"What? You mean the Disney one?"

"Yeah. That one."

"Of course. I have it on tape and DVD."

"I haven't seen it," Mikey said, and had to stop himself from laughing at Pete's comical shocked expression.

"You haven't?! Not even once?!"

"Nope."

"Jesus, Mikey."

"You act like it's the best movie in the world."

"It is. You should come and watch it with me sometime."

"Isn't that what friends do?" Mikey asked, and Pete frowned, although there was a curious glint in his eyes.

"Are you saying we're not friends?"

"No. I'm just saying that's what friends do. Isn't it?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," He replied, eyes glancing down at his book again. They fell into silence again, but it wasn't really silence, because the busy sounds of the coffee shop kept buzzing on all around them. Finally, Pete spoke again, "But we're friends, aren't we?"

Mikey hesitated before answering. He had barely known Pete more than ten minutes, yet already he was asking if they were friends. With anyone else, he probably would've said no. But for once there wasn't any doubt in his mind as he answered, "Yes. Yeah, we're friends."

A grin spread across Pete's face, a grin that radiated nearly as much warmth as the coffee. "Awesome," He answered, pausing for a moment, then adding, "So, when do you want to watch the movie? Is Tuesday good?"


	3. The Pages Are All Torn And Frayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing was, Pete wasnt joking; he really did want to run away with Mikey Way.

Some say that you don't just meet people 'by coincidence', that every single person you meet was meant to cross paths with you for a reason. Pete had never really believed in that - he was pretty sure the old lady whose dog he'd helped catch wasn't about to change his life forever - but when it came to Mikey, he began to think twice.

Pete had never been the best at making friends, or keeping them; he counted himself lucky to still have Patrick, Joe and Andy, and now that he thought about it, he really would have to do something to thank them when he returned home. They'd stuck with him through thick and thin, when people he'd known since kindergarten hadn't, and Mikey reminded him a lot of them - except Joe had his band, Andy had a girlfriend and pretty much everyone in Chicago adored Patrick, while Mikey, just like him, didn't seem to be the most popular kid on the block.

They'd talked for at least an hour in the coffee shop (although their conversation had a tendency to jump between actually talking and just making making bad jokes) and, just as he had promised, the next Tuesday Mikey turned up at the hotel Pete was staying at. He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little surprised that he did - Pete was just a weird guy he had met at a magazine store, after all. But he had come and not only that, Mikey watched Peter Pan with him, just as he had said he would. Twice, even - although that was probably because he couldn't hear it the first time, not over Pete's running commentary of the entire movie. He couldn't help it - he knew lines from it off by heart, knew the lyrics to the songs, he could probably even write down the entire plot from start to finish if he wanted to. Which made him sure that Mikey was going to be a great friend, because if he could put up with watching Peter Pan with him, he could withstand anything Hurricane Pete Wentz threw at him.

That had been a week ago. Patrick had paid for a three-week trip, despite Pete's insistence even that was far too much for him. _"You need it, Pete,"_ He had said, _"But don't think that means I won't make you pay me back. The moment you're back on Chicago soil, you're getting a job."_ Pete smiled at just the memory. He was enjoying his time in New Jersey, the cheapest place to go to he could think of at the time; he always hated using any of his friends' money, after they had done so much for him already. Despite what Mikey obviously thought of the place (Pete could hear him grumbling under his breath about the place, even when he thought he couldn't), he loved it here. It was so different from Chicago; instead of the speeding traffic and bustling work-men and women, everything here seemed to move at a slower pace. It was calmer - and Pete liked it. A rushing city had never been good for his thoughts, which always seemed to be moving at a pace of a hundred miles per hour. It was a lot easier to get his mind straight in a smaller town.

But although he liked New Jersey, he still missed Chicago.

"Jesus, Pete, how many times have you read this book?" Mikey said from the couch where he was sat, cross-legged and slightly hunched over Pete's worn copy of Peter Pan.

"'Dunno. I think I lost count after twenty-five."

He let out a low whistle. "I think the only book I've read more than once is Goldilocks And The Three Bears." Pete snorted, and Mikey glanced up at him. "What? It was my favorite book as a little kid."

"But...really? Goldilocks?"

"Says the guy who's still watching Disney movies."

"...Touché." He grinned and stood from where he had been seated with his laptop on a one-seater, clambering onto the couch next to Mikey. Glancing down at the book, he flicked his eyes across the pages. "Hey! This is my favorite part!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's when they run away together, right?"

"Why are you asking me 'right'? Pete, you probably know this book better than anyone in all of New Jersey."

"Well, it's kind of hard to see past your head." Mikey chuckled and straightened up, passing the book over to Pete. It only took him a second's glance before he was nodding his head, looking back up at Mikey. "Yeah. This is the part where they run away to Neverland."

"The place where no one grows up, right?"

He nodded. "Mmmmhmmm." Pete sighed and sat back, tossing the book over to Mikey, who threw it onto the small table in the room. He drew his legs up toward him, resting his chin on his knees and looking over them at Pete.

"If you had the chance to, would you run away?" Mikey asked suddenly, taking him by surprise. Blinking a few times, he thought about the question, chewing his lip.

"Why?" He finally said, eyes meeting Mikey's. It wasn't the typos of question he asked - rather, it was the type Pete asked.

"I don't know. Curious, I suppose," He replied. "I mean, I think I would, if I could."

"Really? I thought you didn't believe in the whole 'running away and living forever' thing."

"I don't believe in the living forever part. But the running away part....yeah. I would run away."

"Why?" Pete pressed, curious. He sat up a little, crossing his legs and watching Mikey's, whose gaze was focused at a point on the floor.

"New Jersey sucks."

"So does Chicago."

"At least you can do something with your life there. Here, you're considered successful if you're married and have at least one child that wasn't arrested before the age of eighteen."

"So why don't you run away?" He asked, making Mikey's gaze snap back up to his face. "It wouldn't be that hard. Leaving Chicago was easy enough."

"Yeah, but...I have family here, Pete. And a few friends. They would worry."

"Maybe. But they should know you can take care of yourself. You're not a kid anymore."

"I'd be alone."

"Not if someone came with you," He said, his lips creeping into a small smile as he added, "Someone like me."

That made Mikey laugh. "Yeah, I suppose. You'd be fun to run away with, Pete," he said, pausing for a moment. Then he stood up, stretching his arms, "I should get going now, though. I've got work this afternoon."

"I'll try not to stop in this time."

"Oh, please don't," He said, looking down at him, "I absolutely _love_ to be left alone with shelves of kinky middle-aged erotica."

Pete laughed, although really it was more of a not-so-masculine giggle. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will," Mikey rolled his eyes, walking over to the door with a sigh. "Oh, and I'll come around here again tomorrow afternoon. Then maybe we can start planning where we're going to run away to, Peter Pan." He added with a wink, his laugh still hanging in the air even as the door shut behind him. Pete stared at it blankly for a few moments, biting his lip.

Because the thing was, he wasn't joking; he really did want to run away with Mikey Way


End file.
